


Shoneys

by Blackhillssdlove



Series: Shoneys [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27945299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackhillssdlove/pseuds/Blackhillssdlove
Summary: Rick just wanted to eat at his Shoneys for a peaceful meal when he gets upset over having a new waitress.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Shoneys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046494
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. Shoneys

**Author's Note:**

> Story will be long, slowly developed relationship. Will get rated m as it progresses. OC will go through development as she is influenced by Rick being Rick. Not sure there will be a happy ending, because it IS Rick after all.

Rick walked into Shoney’s restaurant with his hands in tucked into his pants as strolled in. He did not make eye contact with anyone while he made his way over to his usual booth, his back facing two booths directly behind him while he faced the rest of the restaurant. He sat in this booth on a whim during his first few trips here and he settled into this booth like an old friend ever since. This was his booth; everyone knew it and even those that did not know it dared not to sit in it. He had laced the underneath of the table with a rare type of metal that acted as a magnet deterrent, if you moved towards it the iron in your blood shift uneasily and you felt the unseen force to move away. He broke in one night and took two minutes of his precious time to install it and it was his ever since. He used a specific chip on his key ring to disengage the deterrent and sat down.

This booth was the closest he felt to contentment, and contentment was his private toilet he used to take a shit. But you can’t shit where you eat, so Shoney’s was held at high esteem. He cracked open the menu out of muscle memory, his mind thinking and processing an infinite amount of thoughts at once and his body on autopilot. Gertrude, a disgusting name for a woman (and he told her so and decided to call her ‘Jer’ whether affectionately or not he did not even really know), was his waitress and he expected her over in a few seconds and.. there she was. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her appear and took out his cellphone with one hand and handing her his menu with the other.

“Pancakes, triple stack, maple sy*uuuuurrr*rup, hashbrowns burnt, coffee black”, he muttered blanky, his tone depicting his uninterest in her as he looked at several articles on his phone.

“Yes! You got it,” a bright, and youthful voice chirped back at him. _Youthful???_

Rick snapped his head to turn around with a hateful and untrusting gaze.

“Wh-Who the fuck are you?” he asked glaring at someone who was certainly not Jer.

Standing before him at, what he calculated immediately was a 5’2” girl between the ages of 18 and 25. _Who the fuck can tell how old girls are now a days with all that shitty make up and skin enhancement surgeries..?_

“May Joe,” she said, the 5’2” girl with such a sunny disposition it actually made Rick more upset.

“The fuck is-is that kind of a name for a girl?” he felt a bit of drool slip out of his mouth and instinctively reached for his flask. He was looking at all of her now, devouring her and immediately assessing everything he could factualize just from what she looked like.

Red hair, he liked that. Thick, dark red hair. Eyes, too bright a green. Did not like that. He immediately wanted to shit on her to pull the shades down on that sunny glint in her eyes. He acknowledged he must be a grumpy old man, but fuck it, how dare Jer not be here? Not his fault the universe had to fuck with him again. Shame it put it him in a bad mood. Shame _May Joe_ had to be the one in front of him to now deal with it. Life is a bitch. He shrugged as he took a swig of his flask, not his problem.

May Joe held her yellow lined notepad and dull tipped pencil in both hands to her chest in front of her, having not put it away yet. She stared patiently at him, rocking ever so slightly on her feet as if ready to head back but not quite sure she was dismissed. Her smile she flashed him originally was not gone from when she said her name, but it was softer as now she was feeling more curious than polite. Both dimples on her cheeks still stood out, as if they were waiting, too. Did not like that.

Rick burped and sighed after taking a swig, _whatever._ _Can do something to change it, but won’t._

He glanced _May Joe_ up and down once more and grunted and she took a step back to leave, but only fully turning away when his eyes left her. As she walked away, she was not giving much thought to him being so intense about her name, she knew it was an odd one and thought he wouldn’t find it so odd after a while. People can get used to the strangest things in life, she thought with a small nod of her head. And if that older man wanted to sit in what were now her tables, he would find a way to adapt. She clipped his order up on the wheel and turned it towards the inside of the kitchen and took two fresh plates of the big jacks breakfast to two lumber jacks seated at the counter.

  
Rick, across the restaurant, was making mental notes, on top of mental notes, on top of those mental notes, on how to reenergize his exhilarator he used for mining death crystals. A hammer and chisel would do, but he was the smartest man in the world (universe, obviously), he could automate any task.

May Joe came back with the pot of black coffee in her hand, her lined notepad now in her apron pocket, the metal spirals sticking out with the pencil shoved in through the loops. He did not acknowledge her with his eyes, but he was aware of her, analyzing every move, every noise, every breath, and storing it away for later. If she was going to work at _his_ Shoney’s, he was going to have to create a profile of her and do some research. There can be no threat to Shoney’s, not in his reality.

He watched her small hand reach across to grab the white ceramic coffee cup and she almost inaudibly whispered, ‘Excuse my reach.’ She was polite, too polite to not say anything about invading his space, and too polite to want to disturb him. _Ew_ , _courteous people are the worst. Reminds me of Jerry._ he inwardly rolled his eyes as he kept looking at some designs, he pulled up in front of him.

She flipped the cup down softly, not wanting to be a distraction even though he was purposefully aware of her. May Joe let the hot liquid pour in and once it was done she turned away without making another peep. Her shoes looked like white generic shoes with laces, but they were very white. He would have thought new if it wasn’t for the faint yellow of the laces, probably from leaving bleach on too long to try to achieve that clean look.

May Joe was wearing a dress with white fluff underneath that seemed like the style a high school girl would wear in that 50s movie, Grease. He decided he liked that. Shirt was white, bleached white, short sleeves, tucked into the navy-blue pleated skirt. Did not cling on her ass, if she had one. Did not like that.

He pulled up Jer’s personal information by doing a quick, indepth and too personal of a search on her. He found in moments that Jer, Gertruide (he rolled his eyes again at that God awful name), was sick. Cancer, too many cancer sticks outside of Shoney’s he figured. He sighed and reached for his flask again and was pissed. Maybe he could get some of Jer’s DNA and clone her into a body with clean lungs and wipe her memory of her nicotine habit…? He weighed out the pros and cons and decided it was not worth his time… and with a glance at May Joe he added, _maybe._

May Joe came back around with his order and put it down in front of him softly again. Jer just tossed his plate down and sometimes hash browns fell out and that ol’ bitch didn’t give a shit.

_Damn,_ he missed her already. “Here is your order, sir,” she said sweetly, flashing those dimples again and he just stared at her.

Her eyes looked at the food and then at him and asked, unsure, “Does it look ok-”

“What kind o-of hill billy accent do you have?” he cut her off.

He did not look mean, she decided, just looked like a bored old man. He had his knife in one hand and fork in the other and just stared at her.

‘I am from the south,” she said, adding a bit more draw to be playful.

He noticed her faint accent, which amused her. A lot of old people are really good euphonically, she decided because he was not the first one to catch the small hitch in her pronunciation. That made her like him, she decided then, too, and she was going to be as sweet as sun tea if her being from the south was what got him to like her. Some of her tables liked that she was young, liked her manners (for a young person, they’d say), some liked her hair, so if he liked thinking she was a southern bell she would use that to warm him up.

“You-you sound like a hill billy from that stupid tv show trailor park boys-or whatever the fuck its name is,” and looked away from her to bring his plate closer.

_Well,_ she thought digesting it, okay then.

She waited a beat longer and as he cut into his pancakes and began to chew, his eyes looking sideways in the other direction as if choosing to ignore her. She half bowed as she turned, walking away.

Rick chewed, irritated his good morning was ruined. _No,_ he began to chew with a more vicious nature, shoving food in like a mad man, it was not ruined. He just didn’t like not being in control. So, he was going to have to gain control. He was going to have to drug her, or something, with maybe some type of truth syrum or somewhat and get her to tell him all about who _May Joe_ was and maybe, just maybe, put an implant in her to follow her movements for a few month. Just to make sure she was right for Shoney’s atmosphere ( ~~death~~ existence would be painful for anyone who tried to be otherwise) and to make sure she was not a galactic federal agent. He knew those bitches could pop up anywhere. And her shoes were too fucking white to be a normal kid.

He was devising his plan for her when she came around to his table to check on how the food was. She was not nervous, he was old, maybe life was unkind to him. Everyone comes from somewhere. When she arrived at the booth she asked, “Is everything tasting alright?”

Rick was in his head mentally mapping out her retirement which was causing a chaotic evil grin to spread across his face. When he heard her, he was unprepared, wrapped up so heavily in his thoughts that he jerked reaching for the gun he stowed under the table, which caused the coffee cup to shake and tip over. The brown liquid spilled over the table, splashing her whit shirt, skirt, and shoes. The liquid soaked instantly into the white fabric.

Rick watched, not much other than empty fascination as the scene played out and he recognized what was really going on. He figured Morty was right, he was trigger happy. “That’s go-gonna stain,” he motioned with his knife (back up weapon) to her shoes. “I need another cup,” mouth half full, drool on his chin, as he poured his alcohol from the flask into the cup.

May Joe breathed in and did not say anything but grabbed a rag from her apron to mop up what was on the table, then the floor. Rick watched as she did this, her movements slow and hands steady. She said, “excuse me” just as quietly as the first time and she disappeared in the back. Rick shrugged and picked up to slurp from his coffee mug, loudly.

May Joe, making her way to utility closet from the back kitchen felt a little… silent in her head as she closed the closet door behind her and pulled the metal string down til the click was heard and the light came on.

She decided, in the soft yellow lighting, that the stain looked worse than it actually was. Her shoes, though… they soaked up the brown like they’d been in the dessert the last forty years. She said softly and felt resigned. She could try to mop herself up, but she knew it was stained. It was okay, she chewed the inside of her cheek.

People who work at a restaurant can have stains on their clothes. She did not have money for new shoes right now, but when she did she would buy them. To be honest, it did make her a little sad. Sad and frustrated just enough to get out a heavy sigh groan . It was hard work keeping white shoes white, and they were her only pair. But again, she would buy a new pair in the future. You cannot change nothing about the present, so why worry about it? With a nod of her head, having talked herself out of being worried, she walked right back out and maybe if she had that right attitude someone might tip her well enough and she would be able to get the shoes sooner.

Rick thought the scene over in his head and thought he should feel bad. He didn’t, but maybe he should. Nah, she’ll just have to change her shoes after work and throw those out _. Ladies have tons of shoes, ammiright?_ He amused himself thinking of the stereo types. He figured he would not aggravate himself any further until he could do research, and would not say anything to her further, just incase.

May Joe came up to his table to give him the check but he had already left a twenty on the table and he was headed to the bathroom to wash his hands. She rushed over to the register to cash him out and deliver his change promptly, and noticed he went from the bathroom right to the door.

“Oh-no-hey, sir, wait!” she called out, the loudest she had been with him all morning. He knew she was calling for him. Well, sorry, _May Joe_ , Rick Sanchez waits for no one. He was out the door and headed to his ride. She burled after him through the door, pretty much slamming it.

In her mind she was certain it was a case of this guy being an old man forgetting he had change. When he heard her hit the door he rolled his eyes, _dramatic._ He unscrewed his flask to drink what was left in it. Luckily, he still had his car flask.

“You forgot your change, sir,” She came up right behind him. He sighed, recognizing he was going to have to acknowledge her to get to go away. He turned around and saw the slight flush in her face from?? He couldn’t figure out, was she in that poor of shape that running a few steps exhausted her? He then saw her shoes, and her top and felt.. something. _Ugh, what a shitty day this is turning out to be._

He sighed, again, and burped loudly. She stood her, holding out his change and tiny paper receipt with one hand. He had drool on his chin again and he just looked bored. He looked kinda cute, she decided, for a grumpy old guy.

He reached up to scratch his neck and looked away from her. “No, I didn’t. Take it as your-er-your tip or-or whatever,” and turned back around.

She didn’t move an inch and looked at the pile in her hand. As he popped open the door to his spaceship, which he mistook for why she was silent for a moment, he heard her yell, “REALLY?”

She clutched the thirteen dollars and some odd change in her hand like it was the most important thing she had in her possession.

Rick turned around about to tell her to chill the fuck out, it’s just a spaceship, and his brain stopped working when he saw her. If her eyes resemembled the sun before, he was sure he was looking at a god damn supernova. He noticed now, as he was looking at her so clearly, the very light dusting of freckles on her nose.

“You know *buuuuurppppp*,” he said turning away from her and climbing into the front seat, bottles clanking on the ground below unnoticed by May Joe, “you-you should really invest in some sun screen. Some SPF50 or some-some shit, or you’re going to be riddled with freckless by the time you’re 50.”

May Joe did not register the spaceship, did not register the bottles clanking, but she registered that she now had enough to buy a new pair of white shoes.

She loved how the universe worked.


	2. Shoney's (the one where he forgot she's a thing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's second meeting with his waitress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story will be long, slowly developed relationship. Will get rated m as it progresses. OC will go through development as she is influenced by Rick being Rick. Not sure there will be a happy ending, because it IS Rick after all.

The following week in Rick’s garage a portal opened spitting out Morty, Summer, and Rick. Morty hit the pavement and Summer toppled on top of him, Rick landed on his feet and took his flask out to take a drink from it as the portal closed behind him.

“God damn it, Grandpa,” Summer yelled struggling against Morty’s flailing arms. “That minflynnel got his shlorp in my hair! Its consistency is like gum!”

“Sorry Sumsum,” Rick said, obviously not sorry as he sat down and hunched over his desk and began tinkering, “may-maybe you should listen next time and not-not touch his diffuser.”

“What the fuck ever, how the fuck am I supposed to get this out?” Her brows furrowed together as she tried to look at her hair and rain her hands through her ponytail. All she felt was a gross gummy substance. She groaned and walked into the house slamming the door behind her.

“Geez Rick, you-you know that, uh, wasn’t really necessary,” Morty said behind Rick, brushing off his shirt and looking at the ground.

“Nothing is necessary Morty, that’s why eve-uurrrrp-rything is necessary,” Rick lit up his micro light to check for fissions in the tethering on his desk.

“You know, som-sometimes you gotta, you gotta recognize how you make some people feel.” Morty stared at the back of his grandfather’s head, knowing he has said this all before and not sure why he repeats it.

“You got it Morty,” Rick didn’t turn around to acknowledge him, not really even listening to his grandson’s pleading. _Lost cause Morty_ , he thought.

With nothing else being said Morty left the garage, softly closing the door behind him. Rick set down his tools and laid back in his chair, taking another drink, acknowledging he was not drunk enough for this time of day. He looked at the clock and figured a trip to Shoney’s to fill his stomach would be a good idea, wanting to avoid dinner with Jerry this evening.

As he stood up and rubbed his shoulder he couldn’t help but feel as if he was forgetting about something. Did he set his lasers to kill instead of stun? Yeah, he laughed evilly, he did. The stun option would kill anyways, but he got a small kick out of flicking the switch anyhow.

Something… something about Shoneys… He opened a portal on the wall and walked in. What was it he could he not remember that was bothering him? He brought both kids home, he was sure, especially after Summer’s dramatic display. Damn, what was he forgetting?

His portal opened in the parking lot of Shoneys and he stepped out onto the concrete. _Good ol’ Shoneys_ , he thought as he put away his portal gun. _Gonna get some breakfast food, gonna fill me on up, gonna get drunk tonight…_ He was practically singing in his head. He opened the door to the restaurant and let the familiar, delicious and feel-good smells rise to him as he inhaled deeply.

“Good ol’ Sh-Oh what-what the fuck!” He growled out, yelling louder than he realized. Standing behind the counter was a 5’2” girl taking an order of a man. _How the fuck could I forget?_ He yelled in his mind.

The girl, whether looking over because of the yelling, or because she heard the bell, saw Rick and smiled, flashing her two dimples in his direction. He ignored her and walked to his usual table, hitting the chip that allowed the magnet to dissemble and he sat down.

How did he forget he was supposed to investigate her? Probably because she was nothing to remember, he glared at her as she made her way over, stopping at tables to make sure they were all right on her way. When she arrived to him, he was still glaring, opening his flask and taking a swig.

“Hey there!” She smiled at him, and he gave her nothing back. She looked him up and down quickly, biologically her mind was telling her, ‘predator’ from his gaze. At least, that was the message he was hoping to convey.

But her smile did not falter, and she laid down the menu in front of him. “Coffee black?” She asked, hoping to impress him with the fact she remembered, still thinking this old man was suffering from issue she could not quite see. I mean, he obviously suffered from being an alcoholic, but who was she to judge? She was a lightweight herself.

Rick’s brain hurt, mad at himself for forgetting to look into her, and mad at Jer for not kicking the nicotine habit until it was too late. “Yeah, good job, swe-sweetie,” he closed his eyes and rubbed them with both hands.

Her eyebrows shot up and she reached a hand over to his shoulder, “Rough day?”

At the contact Rick shot straight up slapping her hand away, startled, “No, I just can’t seem to get people to leave me the he-hell alone,” his angry eyes bore into hers and soft color crept to her cheeks.

“So-sorry about that,” it was her turn to stutter, embarrassed that she touched someone she didn’t even know and was scolded like a little girl for it. _Sometimes there is such a thing as too friendly,_ she thought now scolding herself.

Rick put his hands back on his eyes and she waited a moment longer and still wasn’t sure she why felt like she needed a verbal confirmation that she was dismissed. Embarrassed, she walked away feeling like she wanted to crawl into a hole.

Rick flipped over the menu while simultaneously making notes in his phone. The first thing he was going to do to this lil bitch was tag her, watch where she was going, where she took her piss breaks, lived, who she slept with- at this part Rick felt incline to turn his head towards her as she was walking away from him and stared her up and down, something turning into his stomach- who she’s been sleeping with definitely, can’t have another bird person situation. He would get the layout of her house, tap her phone line, the gps in her car…. Maybe a GPS in a pair of those new white shoes (he’s never GPSed shoes before).

He realized he still suspiciously glaring at her when she turned around to head his way with the coffee pot and their eyes locked and she started a little, her cheeks with those damn freckles lighting up with red. He groaned and turned around, why did this happen at Shoneys? Can’t she work at Starbucks, or Dennys? Or somewhere else in the finite universe?

She arrived at the able, not saying a word, and started to pour his coffee into his mug, very aware he was staring at her. She felt her cheeks burning up and focused on-

“Do-do you like touching old men?” he asked and surprised her into splashing the coffee a little over the mug.

“I-I’m sorry?” she asked as if she did not understand him and frantically reached across the table to grab napkins from the holder with one hand, still holding the coffee pot with the other. 

He was looking at her body as she hunched over the table and reread her name tag (at least that was he was telling himself he was doing, because her name tag was on her right boob and he certainly wasn’t following the curve of the shirt with his eyes).

“Do. You. Like. Touching. Ol-old. Men,” He emphasized every word, a bit of drool on his chin as he sat there with his arms crossed just staring at her with half closed, disinterested eyes.

She straightens up, feeling the heat from the question (or from his gaze, she wasn’t sure), and did not know what to say. He emphasized the words slowly because he assumed she was stupid, or hard of hearing, and that brought another layer of color into her.

They stared at each other, her awkwardly unmoving underneath his scrutiny. It felt like an eternity, and with each second, she did not feel like she was at work. She didn’t hear the noise of customers chatting, the sounds of dishes clanking, or the grill sizzling away. She felt as though the word cease to exist except for her underneath his gaze.

“Eggs lightly scram-scrambled, lotsolots of bacon, and toast with ex-extra jelly,” when he spoke it was as if the world resumed and she whipped her head around wondering what the heck just happened, he slid the menu over to her.

Her arms had goose bumps, and he noticed this and cocked on eyebrow.

She hastily picked the menu up, dropping it a few times before she got a good grasp on it, and she scurried away not waiting for his gaze to leave her.

 _Well, that was uncomfortable,_ she set down everything on the counter and used her hands to cool her flaming cheeks. After a minute of breathing she rubbed her hands on her apron and pulled it down to straighten it and just stood there collecting herself. She decided to let her body work from memory and get lost in thought. She put up his ticket after writing special instructions, and set to cleaning the counters, refilling saltshakers and any task that would be mindless. When the bell dinged for his order, she felt numb enough to calmly take the food over to him.

She reminded herself to just be nice, not overly friendly, so she doesn’t get accused of assaulting an old man and rolled her eyes. She stared at his blue hair and glanced at the shoulder she touched. Her right hand tingled under the heat and weight of the plate remember how strong and warm that shoulder felt. A weird shiver went up her legs into her back and she felt her cheeks pump warmth out. She groaned and placed the plate down before she turned to him. Feeling like being overly friendly is exactly what she was going to do regardless. _Good lord, get over yourself._

She smiled softly, her dimples flickering, and her eyes briefly meeting his brown ones and then looking down at his coffee to see if it needed a refill. She left without a word and Rick stared off to the side lost in thought for a moment.

He turned his attention to the food in front of him slowly, as if pulling himself out of a thought he couldn’t make sense of yet.

“Jesus chr--uuurp-ist”, he burped, and eyes got wide when he saw the big plate of bacon in front of him. There were his eggs, made into a mound of egg eyes, a jelly packet for a nose, and a single strip of bacon into a smile. There was a shit ton of bacon on top near the eggs, acting like hair. _What the fuck was wrong with this woman?_ He thought, his drool becoming more pronounce staring at the mound of bacon. He had asked Jer for lotsolots of bacon before and only got a few extra slices, but this bitch got him a whole package of that crispy delicious fatty goodness. He dug in like an animal eager to devour its prey and wondered how he was going to chip her, he wanted to do something creative this time but wasn’t sure what.

Maybe nothing too intrusive, because, _damn, all this bacon…._

He was following a few strands of thoughts when he sat back full and content, lost in a maze of ‘what ifs’ when she came back around and stared at him. He didn’t pull his attention away from his maze just yet, as he felt he was going to figure it out in a moment. She laid the check down in front of him and watched him in thought.

She decided he must be a doctor of some kind, with the lab coat. Maybe he was an introvert and studied lab samples? Maybe he worked with diseases and tried to develop cures? She decided she enjoyed watching his face lost in thought. With his muscles relaxed he looked tired, and... _Andwhat?_ She bit the inside of her cheek.

While he was thinking of ways to chip and track her and find all the dirty information she had hidden, she was imaging him getting a noble peace prize for finding the cure to cancer or dementia. Everything in her mind was painting him in a superhero light, everything he was thinking was sneaky and manipulative.

She reached over with her own personal hanky she had in her pocket and said, decidedly that she was gonna follow her extinct with this man and go with the flow. What’s the worst that could happen?

He blinked a few times as he felt the soft pressure being applied to his chin and experienced his drool being wiped away with no other thought than the sensation that was being applied to him.

She tucked her hanky back in her apron and looked at him, her dimples flashing in the reflection of his blank eyes.

“R-Rick,” he mumbled out, still lost in what the fuck was happening, not really sure why he was saying his name. _What the fuck is happening?_

Her eyebrows rose quickly and then her dimples deepened as she understood he gave her his name and on a whim, she teased, “Not all old men. Just old men named Rick.”

With a friendly wink, she left.

_Ho, ho, ho, this bitch was asking for it…_

He was slumped into his chair with his hands resting next to him and ended up reaching up to touch his now drool free chin. He rubbed it, turned to look at her and looked bored as he watched her twirl around waiting on another people. He reached for his wallet, left the same amount as last time, and exited out of Shoneys. He turned and looked back feeling weird, as if some force were trying to pull him back in to stay, and watched as she began to turn towards his table again.

Fuck that cosmic bullshit, _noooo thank you._

He flipped off the skies for good measure with one hand, pulling out his portal gun with the other. He shot it at the building, losing himself in thought again, and stepped through as he heard the Shoney’s bells dinged on the door.

Once inside his garage he sat down and created a file with _May Joe_ on it, if that was her real name (he laughed evilly at the cliché) and began to dig out old formulas of tracking devices. He got to work, his mind traversing through every situation and formular combo, while his right hand brought booze to his mouth every few moments and his left hand mindlessly reaching about to touch his chin. This bitch was going to learn that he was the Rickest Rick out there.


End file.
